The Mirrors and the Shadows
by I'm Over There
Summary: Short epilogue to The Moon and the Suns.


**Hi!**

**Thank you so much for reading all the way through the 70 chapters of 'The Mouse and the Spider', and 'The Moon and the Suns' and for all you're support! **

**This is the short epilogue to TMATS that I'm putting as it's own story so as not to disturb the even number of chapters in 'The Moon and The Suns'.**

**In keeping with the 'TMATS' initials, it is titled 'The Mirrors and The Shadows' (as you already know since you clicked on it). **

**Thank you again for reading and I hope you like it! **

* * *

They were shadows of their former selves. Shaped like before; carved from the same stone, written with the same words, _called by the same names_…

…but hollow. Different. _New…._

Still, they kept up old appearances. Just like a mirror's reflection. They were two kinds of copies, now, but never again the real thing.

_Oh well._

Real was overrated, anyway.

* * *

_Of course_ Jim wouldn't do it. _Of course_ he would never be selfless and self-sacrificial.

He'd die (or at least try to) in order to kill Sherlock (or at least try to), but he wouldn't live (in captivity) in order to save Molly (out of captivity). He wouldn't.

And so he _didn't. _

Jim chose 'option two' of the two choices given to him by Mycroft, deciding to work for and live under the control of Mycroft much in the same way he had lived under the (attempted) control of his brother James.

Choosing this also 'damned' Molly to a similar 'fate', as part of the option. Molly too would be under Mycroft's control for the rest of her life, and not only that but she would also have to be with Jim for the rest of her life as well (whether either of them liked that or not).

That was _supposed_ to be the 'catch'. And the choice between that and life in solitary confinement while Molly went completely free was _supposed_ to be what finally made Jim 'change his ways' and do something _good_ for once—and for Molly, too, the woman he claimed to care about by sometimes pretending not to care about her and _prove_ that he did actually care about her, after all.

_Love_ her.

But love isn't_ always_ (or ever) this selfless, self-sacrificing, unconditional emotion that defines all that is 'good' and defeats all that is 'evil'. It doesn't always change people for the better—doesn't always heal or fix or grow them. It doesn't always _help._

No, so much more often love hurts instead. (And isn't that what people say, anyway? In addition and contrast to all those _'love is the answer'_-type mantras? 'Love hurts'.)

And so much more often, love is selfish and self-serving. Greedy and possessive—it doesn't share but it always wants more. Love is jealous and cruel, punishing those who don't return it or receive it instead _(those who get in the way)._

Love is demanding and it doesn't know when to give up.

Love caused Jim Moriarty to peruse Sherlock Holmes's attention and affections for over twenty years and, when ignored in favor of John Watson, caused him to become even more insane and violent, be able to compete with John for Sherlock's attention and to peruse Sherlock's enmity since he could not get his affections. The collateral damage was as much as if Sherlock and Jim had waged a two-person war—which they had (although they had called it a (The) 'Game').

Love also caused Jim Moriarty him to peruse Molly Hooper as a distraction from (and eventual replacement for) Sherlock Holmes. If Jim could not have Sherlock, he could be Sherlock and because Sherlock had John Watson, Jim had to have Molly Hooper. _Love _her, and be loved in return, because Sherlock did not love him.

And that love is what caused Jim Moriarty to choose 'option two' and choose a life with Molly Hooper (giving her no choice in the matter) because he couldn't live alone and bored in a prison cell (he would rather have died—but not unless Sherlock was dead too), and he couldn't live without Sherlock but if he_ had_ to then he needed Molly.

If he loved her, why would he let her go? Why would he set her free when he could have her all to himself?

He wouldn't. He _never_ would.

So he _didn't._

* * *

And Molly hadn't expected him to. She hadn't _wanted _him to.

As selfless and self-sacrificing as her love for Jim was (after all, it had begun as a plan to distract him from Sherlock and committing other crimes—and continued as such) it was selfish and self-serving, as well.

Molly had worked so hard to keep Jim interested in her—to keep him with her—and she wasn't going to have gone through all that she had ('dating' him, being terrified of him, 'dating' him and then actually dating him, all the while keeping him too mentally and physically busy to hurt Sherlock (and others (at least most of the time)), and later helping him fake his death (without his consent), travelling around the country and the world evading authorities and aiding him in his plans, all the while also having helped Sherlock fake his death, too, and still keeping Jim too mentally and physically busy to hurt Sherlock (and others (at least most of the time))) only to have to give Jim up. She wasn't going to lose him. Not now and not ever.

Molly would have chosen 'option two', too.

Jim knew that and so did Mycroft (he had even said so). Molly knew it, she wouldn't have even considered the alternative had she been given the choice.

But (and so) there had never even been an 'option one'. Not really.

* * *

Life didn't change much, actually, after the decision was made. In fact it went (seemingly) back to normal—or as close as it could.

* * *

Molly got a new job. It was a lot like her old job, she was working in a hospital again, but this time instead of dissecting corpses to determine cause of death, the final medical examination, she was helping to deliver babies, the very first medical examination. Instead of working with death, she was working with life.

(Once in a while, though, Molly was called away from her new job to do her old one. Sometimes the British government needed secret autopsies performed on dead prisoners, enemies of the state, and even employees that did not officially exist.)

Molly liked this transition from the dead to the alive. It was backwards and it was refreshing. Like starting over (and who wouldn't want to? So very few got the chance).

…or, like a happy ending (and who wouldn't want one? So very few got theirs).

* * *

It had been her sister, Beth, giving birth that had inspired Molly.

She'd been there at the hospital when her niece born, just like she'd been there when her nephew, Matthew, was born, too. The newborn girl had been named Shayla.

Molly had been afraid that it would be the last time she was allowed to see what little family she had left, due to the terms 'option two'. It was late September and luckily Jim was away anyway and so there were no…complications when it came to visiting Beth at the hospital.

Molly babysat six year old Matthew in the bright waiting room down the hall from the delivery room where Beth and her husband Thomas were. Matthew was nervous, excited (and slightly jealous) but at 9:30PM it was much past his bedtime and so he was sleepy too, every so often dozing off against Molly's side only to jolt up and awake again a few minutes later, not wanting to miss the birth of his little sister.

He asked his aunt to help keep him alert by talking to him, answering his question.

"If having a baby is a good thing, why does it hurt?" Matthew asked, "Mum was screaming."

"Lots of good things hurt." Molly reasoned, ambiguously, then adding, "They have medicine for that, anyway. Your mum isn't in pain now."

"Okay." Matthew accepted, yawning, "How old were you when mum was born?"

"A year older than you." Molly remembered, "I was seven and I was scared too. But it turned out to be fun having a little sister, it means you get to be the boss."

(There were omissions in this description, of course, but it was better to be positive and optimistic than to complain about the past to a young child—at least in Molly's opinion.)

"It's different because I'm a boy." Matthew countered, skeptically.

"You know it doesn't matter if you're a boy or a girl." Molly dismissed. It was 2012, after all.

"Dad says I'll have to protect her, since I'm her big brother." Matthew stated, then cautiously recounting, "…But you and mum have a big brother, too, Uncle Paul, don't you? Did _he_ protect you and mum?"

Molly paused, pensively, before answering.

(Molly and her brother Paul had never really been close, and he tended to avoid her although he had always doted on little Beth. Paul (subconsciously, if not knowingly) blamed her for the death of their mother, even though Molly had only been five when it had happened. He thought she should have called or gone to a neighbor for help instead of sitting quietly and letting mummy sleep. Oh, if only Paul knew about the death of their father…)

"Yes." Molly replied, nodding and smiling, "He did. But now your mum and I are grownups now so we don't need protecting anymore. He was a good big brother, though, when we were little and I think you can be an even better one."

And Matthew smiled and nodded, too, sleepily stifling a yawn.

Sometimes it was better to lie.

* * *

Molly came home from work every day to her same old flat, her same old cat (which she had retrieved from her nephew, giving him a pet lizard in exchange) and her same old boyfriend, Jim.

He was not allowed to leave unless sent off on a job by Mycroft, and so he lounged around all day, bored and waiting for work or Molly to come home (although at night he was much more active). When he did leave, however, sent off on a job by Mycroft, he was often gone days, weeks—_months_, even. He always came, though. He had no choice (other than 'option one', of course).

Still, Molly worried that Jim wouldn't come home. That he would break the rules (oh, how he loved to do that—and he was good at it, too), run away during a job and become a fugitive again. That he would leave her.

…or that one day, during one of his dangerous jobs, all his genius and charm and luck would finally fail him. That he wouldn't come home because he _couldn't._

And, should that happen, Molly wondered if Mycroft would come to tell her himself, send Anthea or another employee. Should that happen, she wondered if Mycroft would bother to tell her at all…

It was like being a soldier's wife (without being a wife or having a husband and without being able to be proud of what her 'soldier' was doing).

It scared Molly because she knew Jim didn't want to slowly waste away, die of old age or some disease hooked up to a machine, die peacefully in his sleep next to her. A boring life and a boring death. No, he wanted to die at the climax of a dramatic story, worthy of all his 'greatness' (arrogance), and either via his own volition or defeat by an enemy, also worthy of his 'greatness' (arrogance) and equal to or surpassing it.

But because Sherlock Holmes no longer (and retroactively never) officially existed and was out of the life of Jim Moriarty (who also no longer (and retroactively never) officially existed) there was no dramatic story and no enemy to give Jim his perfect death.

Or his perfect _life,_ either.

No longer being able to commit crimes (unless ordered to by the government which essentially made them_ not_ crimes), Jim was resolved to live a life of distractions. Of working for Mycroft and being with Molly.

And Molly was resolved to live a relatively calm life with and worrying about Jim, working an ordinary job (and occasionally working for Mycroft as well).

They were watched, constantly, as they had been before. Mycroft's black-suited employees had hidden cameras and listening-devices in Molly's flat that delivered them a 24/7 feed. _'Reality TV'. _

Jim liked to locate them for fun, he never removed them—in fact he enjoyed the audience and loved to show off.

Molly, on the other hand, felt embarrassed and intruded upon at the thought of being watched at all times (and during all activities) in her own home. The only reason she tolerated it is because she knew she and Jim had been recorded before and so the government workers had already seen everything—_and_ _because she knew that being watched might preempt or prevent Jim from doing anything he wasn't supposed to do._ And so she got used to it, after awhile. She had to.

But Jim never got used to being bored. He _had to,_ yes, but he never_ could._

* * *

But Jim and Molly and everyone else ('everyone else' meaning Lestrade, John, Sherlock, Mycroft and Anthea) _did_ get used to their new lives, based in varying degrees on the old, and life (as previously stated) returned to as close as it could to normal and a sense of normalcy.

* * *

Even the most linear of stories still make an effort to be circular, to end where they began and show that neverending cycle

But the truth is things change, people change despite being so resistant and fearful of it, and nothing ever ends up the same. One doesn't end life the way one begins it, one can't escape unaffected, for better or for worse, one always changes.

In fact, the only thing that doesn't change is that things _always _change.

…still, some things are timeless and omnipresent. Like religious stories, folk and fairy tales, urban legends.

* * *

Like Sherlock Holmes.

Only those who believed in him ever found him.

Whispers in some exclusive, reclusive circles and rumors over the internet told his story. The believers searched for him, sometimes…but they only ever found them when he wanted them to.

And with this method and these materials, Sherlock built himself a global network.

Sherlock searched for people, too. People with _problems._ The interesting kind of problems that he could solve and have fun solving. These people with problems he called _'clients'; _the problems _'cases'._

It was like before.

Many cases Sherlock solved without telling the clients; the clients just found the murder of their loved one inexplicably solved, the murderer inexplicably apprehended or dead. Many he helped even though they didn't ask for it or want it. Most never even knew what—or _who_—had happened.

Sherlock was indeed arrogant, but he was too smart to leave clues. And even those rare times he did reveal himself to his clients, he still never told his name (sometimes they guessed it, though).

And as for John, his job was to help Sherlock chose and solve his cases but also to keep Sherlock behaving in a reasonably polite way. He made sure people were treated kindly and _actually helped_ in their time of need. He made sure that Sherlock knew that it wasn't _only_ the work that mattered, but the people as well.

He was a good friend.

John approved all the cases, and chose half of them, usually ones where the people wouldn't be helped or get justice otherwise without Sherlock's help (corrupt governments and corporations, gang and terrorist controlled neighborhoods_—and especially the framed and falsely accused). _

They travelled the world together, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. They were never bored.

It was a good life.

* * *

Gregory Lestrade_ also_ got a good life—better than just a return to normal; _better_ than the life he had before of having a cheating wife, taking care of unruly kids, dealing with Sherlock Holmes, dealing with the death of Sherlock Holmes, getting suspended from Scotland Yard, working as a security guard, and then worrying about whether his new employer was a threat to him and his family.

_Professionally,_ Lestrade got a new important job back at 'good old' Scotland Yard again. Chief Superintendent. (Apparently Sherlock and John didn't like the old Chief Superintendent and so got Mycroft to have him fired—luckily, there was a better replacement just waiting to be reinstated. How convenient.)

Personally, Lestrade finally got a divorce.

…and so did Anderson.

Some mysterious person (Sherlock Holmes) sent evidence of Anderson cheating on his wife with Donovan to Anderson's wife and so she divorced him. She was a former model, always travelling on photo shoots and promotions, which was why she was hardly ever away and Anderson felt as if he had to stray.

Lestrade ran into her at the courthouse when picking up some things he had stored there while working as a security guard and the two started dating.

Lestrade was shocked at first that Anderson would cheat on his beautiful model wife especially with someone like Sally Donovan…but since Donovan just had such a 'winning personality' he decided that looks must not have mattered and 'true love' had won in the end. Definitely.

* * *

Things went back to business as usual for Mycroft, Anthea, and all the black-suited British government employees of a division that did not officially exist.

The details of that 'business as usual' are all classified, of course.

* * *

And like there were whispers in some exclusive, reclusive circles and rumors over the internet about Sherlock Holmes, there were also whispers in some exclusive, reclusive circles and rumors over the internet about Jim Moriarty, as well.

But most of these whispering people were too afraid to go searching for Moriarty.

Working for Mycroft, Jim sometimes _pretended_ to be a 'consulting criminal' again. _Pretended _to aid criminals in committing crimes, but really just set them up to get captured (or killed) instead.

Jim had all the fun of being 'bad', without any of the blame.

It _should_ have been perfect, but it _wasn't._ Because it wasn't _real._

Jim was an attack dog, powerful and dangerous, but completely under the control of an owner (in this case, Mycroft Holmes).

People still feared him, though.

People were always afraid of the dark, even when there was really nothing there.

* * *

"So, how was 'work'?" Molly asked Jim one evening.

They were sitting at the dinner table, across from eachother with a meal between them and Toby (who was not supposed to be on the table, especially when there was food there) sprawled on his side towards the edge basking in the sunset light peaking through the mostly-curtained window into the otherwise unlit room.

"You know I'm not allowed to discuss that." Jim chided, wagging a finger at her, an elbow on the table, "Besides, there hasn't been any work in weeks. It seems that crime can't get itself together without me there to consult..."

"I was talking about the cooking." Molly specified, gesturing to the food in front of them—and the mess in the kitchen next to them she was sure he expected her to clean up.

In his boredom, Jim had been 'learning' to cook. It was really just an excuse to set fires and make explosions. (Probably in hopes the fire alarm would be set off and the whole building would be forced to evacuate. Definitely in hopes of annoying Mycroft.)

He'd been using a famous French cookbook (even though he hated French food) and was always sending one of the neighbors (government employees living in the other flats on the floor, monitoring the hidden camera feeds) out shopping for the necessary ingredients.

Molly wondered how long this new hobby of Jim's would last. His previous hobby of attempting origami had only lasted a few hours (but resulted in hundreds of wads of crumpled paper all over the apartment). So far it had been three days…

She would miss him, of course, but she hoped he would be sent away on 'duty' soon.

"Oh that? It's going well." Jim grinned, "As you can see."

He also gestured to the food in front of them…and the mess in the kitchen next to them he expected her to clean up.

Molly rolled her eyes, then glancing down and picking at the burned vegetables and undercooked meat (both cooking 'mistakes' she suspected were intentional) with her fork but not bringing them up to her mouth.

When the last bit of falling sun was obscured by the curtain, the room became dark and so Molly stood up, crossing the room to flip on the lights. Toby followed her, hoping up from his longue on the unclothed table and trotting after her.

She met him in the kitchenette to give him the well-deserved can of catfood he'd been so patiently awaiting. They stepped around the mess of spilled and dried _something_ that extended down from the countertops onto the tile floor.

Jim turned his head to watch Molly (and Toby) from his seat at the table, tipping his chair back a bit so he could lean to get a better view. Molly pretended not to notice she was being watched, although she always knew.

Finally, she returned to the table to sit across from him.

"…so how was_ your_ day, dear?" Jim inquired, scripted and stereotypically. He liked to pretend that he and Molly were a sitcom, sometimes—or a depressing drama—for their viewers' amusement.

"It was good, the usual." Molly responded, looking up to face him, "You'd think all the crying would get annoying but it's…nice, actually. Better than the silence in the morgue."

Jim smirked.

"But it's hard, isn't it?" he questioned, slyly, "Seeing all those children being born—all those people becoming parents…and knowing you'll never have that yourself? Because you'd never trust me to be a father and because you'd be too afraid to be a mother, anyway, too afraid that you'd die and leave your kids like your parents left you?"

The situational comedy was over now, 'depressing drama' replacing it. The irony remained, though.

And Molly could've pretended to be hurt, for Jim's amusement or for the 'amusement' of the viewers but instead she laughed.

"You'll never get tired of taunting me, will you?" she questioned, even _almost _smirking herself (or as close as she could ever come to smirking). It was a teasing sort of smile without any real bitterness or malice.

Jim's words hadn't had any real bitterness or malice, either. He hadn't really meant what he'd said, or wanted to hurt her. He was just a better actor.

"What can I say?" Jim sighed, mirroring her smile. He leaned back in his seat and folded his hands comfortably behind his head, "I'm bored."

* * *

The wheel turns, nothing is ever new.

…but some things never get old.

* * *

**Well, I hope you liked this little epilogue thingy! **

**If you have any requests or anything, just ask and I can try to write them and add them as chapters to this story.**

**Also, I was thinking of starting a new 'Sherlock' fanfic...**

**Would anybody be interested in reading an AU about Molly paying Richard Brook to be Jim Moriarty? **

** It would follow the plot of series 1 and 2 basically, just with that dynamic secretly in the background. But if it ends up completely contradicting series 3 (if it ever airs) then it would be an alternate universe anyway. **

**It would be dark!Molly but not in the way most stories like that write her, being corrupted by Jim or secretly working as his assistant the whole time. In this fic Molly would be the 'misunderstood' villian desperate for Sherlock's attention and poor Rich Brook would be the nice guy in over his head, attempting to stay sane while playing such an insane character and dealing with the demanding dark!Molly. **

**Let me know if you'd wanna read that.**

**And of course, let me know if you liked this epilogue by reviewing! **


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